


2 Short Fics - Impatience and Wanting

by Paraxdisepink



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prison Sex, Shore Leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paraxdisepink/pseuds/Paraxdisepink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I think these were all request fics, so I’m putting them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impatience

“All right,” Archie set his mug of ale down – his fourth this evening. “I’m finished.”

Horatio rolled his eyes, making a great show of unfolding his arms and straightening, determined that Archie should see that he had gone stiff from slumping in the chair. “I was beginning to wonder why we bothered paying for a room,” he scowled. “I feared you’d intended to remain here all night.” 

Archie smiled at Horatio’s impatience, and then allowed his gaze to drift to the other side of the room where a dark haired serving girl was leaning over another table to set down a mug of ale. Horatio noticed his watching; his mouth firmed into a hard line. Turning back to him, Archie grinned. Horatio was drunk. That made him thrice as fun to nettle. 

“Well I’m finished,” Archie repeated, pushing his chair back and standing up. He was more than a little light-headed, but didn’t want Horatio to see it. 

Horatio did not take the time to study him. Instead, he turned, making his way through the Crescent’s noisy, firelit common room toward the stairs. He teetered as he moved. There was simply no hope for him walking in a straight line. Archie grinned at his back, amused at the way Horatio clamored up the creaking stairs twice as clumsily as usual. 

He regained himself when he reached the top, turning to glare at Archie for following at such a leisurely pace. Archie did not hurry, but took his time trailing after Horatio as he scowled again and headed for their room. 

Their eyes met as Archie finally closed the door and latched it. Horatio’s cheeks shone pink in the candlelight, his huge eyes bright as he stood there. Within a moment, his scowl slid away and he stepped forward, taking Archie by the shoulders and crushing him against the door. 

Archie managed to grip Horatio’s slim waist just before that full, cushiony mouth smothered his. Weeks of forced near celibacy were for a moment relieved by the hot, familiar taste and welcome closeness. Archie could not help but cling, sliding his hands up to Horatio’s back, fingers curling into his wool coat and drawing him closer. Horatio’s heart beat fast against Archie’s chest, from the liquor and the sheer relief, and in that moment it simply seemed a waste of time to bother making their way to the bed. 

The eager kiss forced Archie’s head back. Hot lips clamped down on his neck just as a hand slipped from Archie’s shoulder between their bodies. Archie’s lips parted, panting into the room’s warm air, his body pushing forward despite himself when Horatio’s long fingers found the buttons of his trousers. God, a little ale could do wonders. Who would ever imagine that shy Horatio Hornblower could be so forward and randy? 

Archie could scarcely breathe by the time they pulled apart, his head filled with the scent of ale and the wool scent that was simply Horatio. They were both drunk, but the unabashed want in Horatio’s dark eyes sent the giddiest rush through Archie’s body. It was such a rare thing for Horatio to be so unashamed. He even stepped forward again for another kiss, but Archie caught him by the shoulders when he teetered in the process. 

“You’re drunk. Lie down.” 

Horatio nodded as though it were an order. He could be very good at taking orders. Crossing the few steps to the bed, he laid down, reaching up to loosen his stock and looking to Archie expectantly with his big, shining eyes. 

Perhaps it was devious of him, but Archie did not rush to throw himself upon Horatio as he wanted to. Instead, he slowly unfastened the buttons on his jacket and slid the heavy wool from his shoulders, depositing the garment on the chair by the door. Horatio’s eyes went a little wider when Archie unknotted his stock to unwrap it from his neck and lay it atop his jacket, and when Archie started to tug his shirt over his head Horatio sat up 

“You’re teasing me,” he declared with perfect seriousness, as though he had just worked out what teasing was. Knowing Horatio, he had. 

Once he had his shirt off, Archie toed off his shoes and reached to unfasten his trousers. He said nothing, only savored the hot weight of Horatio’s eyes on his skin as he pushed the cloth down. Strange, to be aroused by it; Archie had never though to want another man to look at him hungrily again. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” Horatio went on with his revelation, “taking your time downstairs.” 

Archie said nothing. He had not the chance to, in any case; Horatio swung his long legs over the bed and reached for him, seizing Archie by the waist and yanking him onto the mattress. He landed sprawled facedown across Horatio’s thighs, his surprised laughter muffled by the coverlet. 

“Horatio . . .” Archie tried to turn and face him, but once again did not have the chance. 

Horatio’s palm slapped down on his arse. “You were unkind,” he scolded, with a drunk man’s absurd seriousness. 

The blow did not hurt, but it shocked Archie all the same. For a moment, he lay frozen under the sting, his muddled mind unable to believe that shy Horatio Hornblower had actually spanked him. Indignation flared in Archie briefly, before the laughter bubbled out. Laughter only seemed to make Horatio more solemn, his precious dignity offended. 

“Your too smug by half,” he chided with almost paternal gravity, and then swatted at Archie’s bare, defenseless bottom a second time. 

Archie could not help yelping this time, but even drunk he was quick to fight for the upper hand. He squirmed around, somehow managing to get ahold of Horatio’s arm, shoving the taller man onto his back. He dove on top of him, planting his elbows on either side of Horatio’s narrow body and seizing two fistfuls of curls, pinning Horatio down and diving for his red, ripe mouth. 

Horatio tried to squirm, but Archie was too heavy for him. He could only move his hands, clutching at the bedclothes while Archie ground his head into the mattress. Somehow Horatio’s hand found its way to Archie’s arse again, striking the flesh in quick little swats while he tried to mutter against Archie’s mouth, no doubt with a mind to tell him how wicked and unscrupulous his tactics were. 

Archie would not have listened even if Horatio were free to speak. He was too busy wriggling with each little slap to his backside and too busy devouring Horatio’s wonderful mouth. They were both hard, and there was only so much grinding poor, impatient Horatio could take before his head turned to one side as he shuddered suddenly and bit his lip against a cry. 

Even as Horatio came off, Archie did not stay still. He pushed himself up, straddling Horatio’s waist and pressing down on his by now aching prick. This time, Horatio did cry out, a choked gasp as his eyes went wide and round and his brows shot up under his curls. Archie expected another swat for his efforts, but Horatio had the coverlet in his fists and seemed to lack the ability to move in the throes of his rather premature release. 

He lay there panting after his body had spent and his prick had grown soft again. Archie did not climb off him, but waited for Horatio’s eyes to focus and for embarrassment to darken his already flaming cheeks. Horatio could be prickly in regards to his habit of firing too soon at times. 

“Now look what’s happened,” Horatio muttered after he caught his breath, obviously dismayed. 

Archie smiled patiently, thinking that perhaps he should apologize and that perhaps it was the time to reassure Horatio that this was not his fault, that he was not a poor lover for it. Archie was even willing to admit that he had not intended to tease, that he simply loved the way Horatio looked at him, loved the absence of fear or disgust at his desire, that he loved what they had because it was yet another thing he might have given up on if not for Horatio. But he said nothing, only took Horatio’s hand and laid it upon his thigh, near to the hard flesh that wanted Horatio’s touch. 

He should have known from the cunning curve of Horatio’s lips that an idea had sprung to mind, but as it was Archie squeaked in surprise when Horatio grabbed him by the hips and tossed him flat on his back. 

The room spun until he brought Horatio’s face into focus, taking in his pursed lips and his bright, predatory eyes. “I suppose I should even the score a bit,” he murmured in his low, soft voice, pinning Archie down by the shoulders. “Or maybe I should make certain that I’m free to do precisely what I want with you. I’ve been waiting all night.” 

There was no chance to interject that it had not been “all night”, merely an hour or two. Horatio was already sliding the loosened stock from his neck, only to wrap it around Archie’s wrist. Archie’s eyes went wide when Horatio secured his hand to the headboard. What had come over him? It was impossible not to stare at him shock. 

But when Horatio turned to fetch Archie’s stock for the other wrist, Archie wriggled his hand a bit, smiling to discover that Horatio had purposely tied the thing so that Archie could slip his free if he wanted. He did no such thing. Instead, Archie closed his eyes, eager for Horatio to commence tormenting him until he grew hard and impatient again and wanted him. He did not even quip that if this was the result of frayed patience then he might take his time in his cups more often.


	2. Wanting

It had rained all night.

The howling wind and the constant pounding upon the walls and the metal bars over the window made sleep near impossible. Horatio woke every half hour, it seemed, groggy and agitated. Sleepily, he wondered why the smallest sounds echoed ten times louder in the darkness. 

He did not feel the cold at least, not with Archie huddled in the narrow top bunk beside him, pressing Horatio almost to the wall. Archie was as warm as a furnace. Perhaps it was unwise to sleep so close together, but Horatio had invited Archie up here where he might escape the wind and rain. 

Archie had been allowed out for the first time today. The walk along the cliffs under the afternoon sun had easily tired him. He had climbed right into bed after supper. His health was still a worry, but there was no fight in getting food in him anymore and he smiled and laughed more readily these days. Even now, he looked halfway content. The moonlight turned his hair to silver and there was no hint of pain in the pale, pretty face beside Horatio’s on the pillow. He was simply sleeping. In fact, Archie had not even had a nightmare for days now. 

Smiling at him, Horatio lightly smoothed his hair, leaning close to press a kiss to his forehead through the warm gold fringe. This cell was no easy place for Archie to return to, but the truth was that prison would be unbearable without his company. Horatio hoped that Archie knew that. 

Archie’s lids fluttered at the touch. Feeling a pang of remorse for waking him, Horatio wrapped an arm around Archie’s shoulders, stroked gently through his nightshirt. “Go back to sleep.” 

Without a word, Archie rolled closer, half draping himself over Horatio’s body and dropping his head onto his chest. Horatio closed both arms around him. Perhaps Archie was cold. But he did not feel cold. His body was sturdy and hot against Horatio’s, his hair soft where the unbound strands fell into the gap of Horatio’s nightshirt, his warm breath tickling the skin. 

Horatio expected that Archie would close his eyes and doze off again. But his arms slipped around Horatio’s body, clinging just a little. Horatio frowned. It was heartbreaking to think on how lonely Archie must have been after two years of imprisonment. His arms tightened. Somewhere inside, the familiar guilt welled up. Sometimes it seemed that simple human contact was the only thing Horatio had to offer him. 

The frown faded, however, when Archie leaned up to rub his face against the side of Horatio’s neck. A kiss followed, shooting a spark of warmth right into the pit of Horatio’s stomach. Smiling, Horatio craned his head back, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Archie’s head. He was caught off guard when Archie spoke. 

“Did you like what we did last night?” 

Color crept into Horatio’s cheeks. He felt that he should say no, of course not, that he had only done it because . . . . But that was not the truth. His body tingled with pleasure even now to remember it. Archie had felt so hot and hard inside him, crushing him delightfully as he heaved and rocked into him. Throughout the day, Horatio had worried over the pleasure he had found in the act. Surely having another man inside you was not meant to be pleasurable. He was not a woman. But last night he had groaned, arched his back, and writhed against the currents of heat flowing through his body as Archie took him. 

Swallowing hard, Horatio turned his head away, wondering why the question would pop into Archie’s mind a bare moment after waking. But perhaps Archie had worried too, or feared regret on Horatio’s part. Horatio ran a hand through Archie’s silky gold hair in the hope of reassuring him. 

“It wasn’t what I expected, to say the least.” 

Archie snorted. The rush of air tickled Horatio’s throat. The rain was the only sound for a moment as Archie lay there with his small nose pressed to Horatio’s neck, but soon enough he lifted his head. 

“What did it feel like?” 

Horatio blinked, the blush in his cheeks deepening. Yet Archie looked so earnest, his eyes fixed upon Horatio’s face in the moonlight. Without thinking, Horatio cupped his cheek in one hand and asked, 

“Curious?” 

It was Archie’s turn to look away. His lids fluttered and he bit his lip, fighting down something. Horatio frowned at himself. He should have known better than to tease him on that subject. But the tension fell away after a moment. Archie sighed and shook his head. 

“I’d only end up having a fit.” 

He sounded so quiet and defeated that Horatio found himself stroking Archie’s shoulders with both hands, smoothing the wrinkles in his nightshirt. “That’s all right, Archie. I don’t expect it.” 

Archie smiled at him, a sad little smile that curved the corners of his mouth only slightly. “You’re too patient,” he said, leaning down to kiss Horatio’s cheek. 

Horatio let his arms settle around him, drawing Archie’s warm, heavy weight down onto his chest. He had hoped to be patient. That was the only right thing to be, considering. In fact, Horatio wondered how much he had right to expect of Archie in whatever their new arrangement could be called. Simpson had left his ugly mark. Horatio could see the damage done. He wanted Archie to trust him. Conscience demanded that he prove he was nothing like Simpson. Yet Archie certainly seemed trusting against him now, his heart beating steadily against Horatio’s own. 

“Forgot what it was like to . . .” Archie stopped himself, pressing his mouth to Horatio’s instead, warm and soft. Horatio let their lips slide together for a moment before he drew back and prompted Archie to finish. 

“To what?” He could not help but stare up at Archie uneasily. Had it simply been too long since Archie had lain with anyone? Perhaps Horatio might do better to wish their physical affair was born of nothing but loneliness and that it would end once Archie found himself among women again. But Horatio felt his chest tight as he waited for Archie’s answer. It might not be right, but he hoped he was more to Archie than a warm body to curl up to. 

In the darkness, Horatio caught the quick sweep of Archie’s tongue across his lips. “To . . . to matter to someone.” His voice trembled faintly. Sentimentally did not come easily to him either. 

Despite himself, Horatio exhaled in relief. He pressed his hand to the back of Archie’s head and kissed the end of his small nose. “I’d thank you not to forget it,” he murmured. Still, Horatio did not overlook the faint sadness in Archie’s words. Two years of imprisonment . . . . Two years Horatio had spent privately mourning him. 

Archie said nothing. His hands slid under Horatio’s arms, fingers curling into the cloth of his nightshirt. Horatio closed his eyes, his head filled with the sounds of the wind and rain for a moment before the warm rush of Archie’s breath shivered over his lips. The cushiony heat of Archie’s mouth followed, melting languidly with his own. Archie’s chest seemed to melt against his too. It was such a strangely intimate thing, the feel of another heart beating in the same rhythm as his own. 

Horatio’s hand slipped from Archie’s hair, trailing down his broad back, stroking lightly at Archie’s warm skin through his nightshirt. A quiet contented sound escaped Archie’s lips, only to be muffled between them. He no longer tensed when Horatio touched him. On the contrary, he pressed down against Horatio full length, very much encouraging the contact. Horatio still pitifully lacked experience in these matters, but he had learned that Archie was willing to be quite giving and affectionate so long as he did not grab him suddenly or confine him. 

As it was, Archie’s hand slid down Horatio’s side. He shivered at the ticklish touch along his ribs and then exhaled sharply when Archie’s fingers crept under the hem of his nightshirt. Archie’s palm felt hot as a brand dragging over his hip, his fingertips soft points of heat when they reached Horatio’s belly. Sharp sensation stabbed at the pit of his stomach, pangs of anticipation. As easy as that, Horatio felt the blood race between his legs, his prick tingling and swelling. 

“Archie . . .” Horatio did not know what the pleading note in his own voice meant, or why his fingers suddenly clenched a fistful of Archie’s nightshirt. Perhaps he wanted Archie to hurry or perhaps he sought some sort of permission, but he knew he did not want Archie to stop. 

“Like that?” Archie whispered, turning his head to kiss behind Horatio’s ear. His fingers had wedged between their bodies, skimming the length of Horatio’s hard flesh. The lighter Archie touched, the more Horatio throbbed and ached it seemed. 

Horatio had no answer but to tip his head back, inviting Archie to kiss his neck while those warm fingers continued to tease. His own hand drifted beneath Archie’s nightshirt, fingers splaying across the back of his hot, muscular thigh. Archie squirmed at the touch, helplessly ticklish, and then laughed at his own response. He was hard, his prick pressing into Horatio’s belly, sparking memories of the sensation of Archie inside him last night. 

His hands clutched instinctively, greedily drawing Archie closer. They began to rock together, hard flesh sliding against hard flesh, Archie’s weight pressing down on him so close that the rhythm of his heartbeat seemed to echo through Horatio’s body. Archie’s mouth found his again, or perhaps Horatio had tugged his head up; his hand was tangled in Archie’s hair. Their lips ground together, sweetening the friction, until Archie pulled back panting. 

“Did it hurt?” he asked when he caught his breath. 

For a moment, Horatio stared up at him blankly, gasping for breath as well. Then he realized that one of Archie’s thighs was draped across his hip and that his hand had been idly kneading and stroking the firm muscle of Archie’s backside while they rubbed together. Color flared into Horatio’s cheeks again, but he managed to shake his head once he understood what Archie meant. 

“. . . The contrary . . .” 

It had felt as though Archie had uncovered something secret inside him, a capacity of sensation Horatio had not known existed. But in all likelihood he was simply strange and abhorrent. Archie would know better than he. Surely the act was meant to hurt. He had no wish to hurt Archie. 

He meant to take his hand away and forget the whole awkward matter, but Archie’s hands slid to his shoulders before Horatio could. Almost shyly, Archie turned onto his back, tugging Horatio down on top of him. He did not miss the tension in Archie’s body the moment his weight fully pinned him down or the tightness in the fingers clutching at the backs of his shoulders. Archie had never quite submitted like this before, and the heat of the moment was not so much that Horatio overlooked the small boundary crumbling. 

Archie’s eyes appeared huge staring up at him from the folded jacket serving as a pillow. It was too dark to see now, but Horatio supposed he had been permanently undone by their blue color and could not resist capturing Archie’s mouth, pressing down onto the hot, muscular body beneath him. Archie felt so soft, the hair on his chest tickling Horatio’s skin, his mouth and his arms so warm. He was still hard, his prick crushed between their bellies, silky and plaint, leaving a damp spot where the head touched Horatio’s stomach. 

On instinct, Horatio thrust forward, grinding their hips together, kneading the hard shaft beneath him and appeasing the ache in his own lap. He had no idea of what to do or of what Archie wanted – he had never been aware of Archie’s body like this before, or of anyone else’s for that matter. His tongue slipped into Archie’s mouth, tasting heat. That heat intensified when Archie’s heels slid up, allowing Horatio to nestle between his thighs where he was warmest. 

Horatio moved more urgently. He could feel the pounding in Archie’s balls against his own. He throbbed with the wantonness of it, and when he ground even more vigorously his prick slipped between the firm curves of Archie’s arse. 

The hands at Horatio’s shoulders clutched tonight. Archie turned his face away. Beneath the drive for release Horatio realized that they had tripped upon something dangerous. He was so close, all he would have to do is push inside. Why couldn’t he? Surely this was different from Simpson’s brutality, and it did not seem logical that Horatio could be the only man to take pleasure in having another inside his body. He would have given a great deal to find out if he was or not. 

But the desire was more than for his own reassurance. For the first time in his life Horatio felt cut off by his own inexperience. It had never bothered him before that he lacked the carnal knowledge his comrades often boasted of – the female body disinterested him – but now, with Archie so warm beneath him, he longed to know what burying himself inside Archie and surrounding himself with his heat would feel like. 

Archie turned back to him, his hands relaxing, pushing gently for Horatio to keep moving. The dangerous moment passed and Horatio began rocking against him once again, aware of Archie’s foot lightly brushing his hip in the friction where one of his legs was raised slightly. Perhaps it was an invitation, or perhaps he was simply contemplating something that might eventually happen. It did not matter. The hard feel of his body and the wet softness of his mouth was as much as Horatio could take and Archie had not asked for more. Horatio came off panting against Archie’s warm neck, clutching a fistful of his nightshirt, dimly aware that Archie was clutching him too as the now familiar wetness splashed across Horatio’s belly. 

Horatio lay sprawled on top of Archie for a long time after, his head filled with the pounding of the rain, the pounding of their blood, and the rapid rush of their breathing. The air smelled different, thick and heady with the scent of sex, but in due time they would scrub all the evidence away. At the moment, Horatio hardly cared, concentrating only on the fingers moving through his hair, calming him. 

“Good?” Archie murmured, rubbing Horatio’s back with his free hand. Horatio nodded, managing to turn and press a kiss to Archie’s square jaw. 

“Good,” he agreed, catching up one of Archie’s hands, tucking it under his chin in a manner he recognized as childlike. 

Archie did not tease him for it, however. He let Horatio curl up against his shoulder, continuing to stroke his curls. For another moment, they lay in silence, until Archie very quietly said, 

“I want you, Horatio.” 

He did not mean now, of course. Horatio knew that, but excitement fluttered through him all the same. Giving Archie’s hand a squeeze, he smiled. He had wanted to be trusted. He received another kiss on his forehead and a touch to his hair before drifting back to sleep with the smile still in place.


End file.
